Repressed
by Somaendure
Summary: Repressed memories are hypothesized memories having been unconsciously blocked, due to the memory being associated with a high level of stress or trauma. The theory postulates that even though the individual cannot recall the memory, it may still be affecting them consciously.


A silent night is greeted by the cold chill that sets in clumps of white. The continuous falling snowflakes glitter down like something of a fairy-tale. Blissfully and yet eerie, they strike you by surprise when one softly lands upon your ice cold skin, leaving a sense of euphoria in the most delicate way, almost comparative like a gentle kiss. A breezy gust of chattering teeth and red cheeks remind fear itself is least expected to overwhelm the gallant, nonetheless, threatening assassin. His hands are raw and blistered, evident by escaping the hands of death, climbing walls, hanging onto rooftops, leaves the man with a tearing burn which causes him to rub his fingertips soothingly, somewhat as comfort during the blistering cold. The lonesome mountains are haunting enough to a certain extent that it's beautiful. They are illuminated partly by the melancholy moonlight, shredding beams throughout the distance. Ezio's hood rumbles rapidly between each and every gust, sometimes a cluster of snowflakes would invite themselves into the back of the fabric, melting away instantly due to the warm exposure of the neck. The deserted dexterous assassin is left only with thoughts and compulsions that lurk ominously, repressing horrific memories that scar his welcome for love. Silence is replaced by stiffened moans which ache with pain. The snowstorm hasn't been much help, triggering every inch, inside and out of Ezio to become numb. A low whiny from the dark crimson mare replaces the quietness of the storm, as she begins to munch her efforts through the sheet of snow covering limp emerald strands. He watches his broad mare, slowly blinking snowflakes from her eyelashes to which he subconsciously does the same. Tired eyes become sore and heavy. The everlasting feelings for someone whom he loved sink dangerously into his thoughts, drowning him in sorrow as well as mourning. His hands wrap crisscross to clasp his shoulders, where he lowers his head between his knees in grief. Eyes tightening, brows furrowing, teeth chattering so loud disturbs his Frisian mare, nickering fearfully. He comforts the frisking creature reassuringly with a soothing shush. Replaced by a low snort transcended from flared nostrils, the brain and brawn of a man begins to hum a pleasant tune. This tune even eases him in a way, as the enchanting melody contains elements of a foreboding plus charismatic memory. Drifting off ever so silently, he imagines vibrant splashes exploding over Venice.

_**Venice, 1476**_

Dashing through crowded alleyways, full of excited faces as they watch imploding sparkles high in the sky, Ezio is tugged along so eagerly he apologizes consistently for being awkwardly dragged into other spectators, knocking them off balance. "Il carnevale di venezia" had always amused thousands across Italy, especially that of Cristina Vespucci. Tugging at the man's blouse trailing behind her, she abruptly stops, gazing towards a burst of loud noise over Venice. She lets out an astonished gasp as if it wasn't evident by her widened eyes and amplified smile. Before he can even capture the display, he, yet again is ushered along into a square of entertainment. After absorbing the entire atmosphere of flame breathing jesters to masked individuals enticing in a dance, he realizes his petite sweetheart has disappeared among the crowd. Worry instinctively is a foundation that forms a nasty spring in his step as he immediately scans the horde. The sight of a golden and crimson dress rewards a burst of relief. Strolling over, dodging dancers spinning into each other's step, he soon reaches Cristina glancing out upon a starry lit night. Peacefully he studies her reaction to the glistening water below, forming some into her own palms. A grin flashes across his face just long enough for Cristina to notice. He saunters over, palms offering hers.

"Shall we dance?"

Si" replied with a husky tone./p

They move towards the center of dancing figures, fingers locked tightly, guiding each other. Replicating everybody surrounding them, they single-handedly grasp one another's palm, gracefully staggering steps, while exchanging charming eye-contact then switching lead. Colourful orbs scattered around the square bloomed a fiery like complexion which gave a nostalgic feel. His focused view was on his only true love ever to cross his heart, laughing with amusement in front of him. In that current moment, when it seemed laughter was enough between two young lovers, a beautiful melody started to ring in his ears, strumming of a guitar, sliding between different frets. It was all disbursed by an enchanting singer who hummed what was heard identical to bliss. Ezio's emotions grew deeper and stronger for Cristina each passing day and the impulse to consume her in an act of affection was planted upon her lips as they stand embraced in the midst of their first _carnevale._

Ezio's warm touch is drastically replaced with her body slipping away, almost like she's being pulled by something. He desperately tries to grab her arms, forcing his fingers along her wrists enough that it squeezes her hands. His head throbs with pain, as echoes of Cristina's laughter shadow every inch of his hearing, slowing fading away. A layer of echoed laughter is joined with the melody, strings high to low. His vision darkens, barely unable to see Cristina, almost like she's fading away from his grasp.

"Cristina!" he cries.

She is completely gone. The darkness is accompanied by only the dim lights of the orbs, but only are they hazy to be recognizable. Her gloomy laughter fades, as does the final note of the melody. It is completely soundless for a brief second, until Ezio hears Cristina's low whisper with evidence of fear.

"Ezio?"

Bitter cold and the extreme brightness of the kindling morning bring the man in a ruffled sleep position wide-awake. His eyes strain upon his mare still peacefully foraging through the melting snow. His dyed white robes are damp and crumpled. He is breathless almost, shocked yet saddened. "It was just a dream. _Just a dream."_


End file.
